She was so very weary of having her life interrupted by her weakness that anything that she had begun to do always seemed to her worth finishing, even under torture.

To finish every task, in spite of all hindrance, was her only ambition, but it was almost always frustrated.
Seventy more beans.

"Three score and ten," thought Sarah Brown.

"What's that?
Only a lifetime." She bent to her work.
A great clump of buttercups bestrode her bean row, and as after a struggle she dragged its protesting roots from the earth, something fell from it.
"Oh, a nest," she gasped.

"Look, I have hoed up a nest." "Good gracious," exclaimed a fairy.